PART 3
I help Luke load the loose hay into a
wheelbarrow, then he takes the handles and, with a smile, tells me,
“Get in.” And because it’s silly and childish, because I’m still
high from him, because I know Kent will get pissed if he finds us
goofing off like this, I clamber on top of the hay, pull my legs up
under me so they don’t dangle, grip the sides of the wheelbarrow
and lean back to look up at Luke. He grins down, kisses the tip of
my nose, wiggles the unsteady cart in his hands and says, “Hold on,
sexy.” Sexy, I like that. It rekindles the fire that
smolders deep inside of me, fans the flames of my lust, makes me
burn for Luke. If Kent only knew what a word like that does to me,
he’d never use my name.
I hold on tight as Luke races through the
fields, the ride bumpy
